


those aren't meant to bend

by michirus



Category: Suicide Boy - ParkGee (Webcomic)
Genre: Bullying, Dacryphilia, Implied Sexual Content, Infatuation, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, jaehoon's actually a little fucked up in this oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27324901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michirus/pseuds/michirus
Summary: With Jaehoon’s schedule packed with studying, studying, and more studying, there really isn’t room for anything else. Despite that, he can’t help but wonder about that boy with the bandages on his wrist and, more specifically, how strangely pretty he looks when he cries.
Relationships: Kim Jaehoon/Lee Hooni
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	those aren't meant to bend

**Author's Note:**

> hi! decided to post another thing i've been working on. this is also unfinished, but it's supposed to be p short and i already have a good portion of the next chapter written so we'll see. 
> 
> title is from jack stauber's oh klahoma, i love that song to death.
> 
> disclaimer: jaehoon is super ooc. i saw how he never stopped the bullying or even stood up for hooni, and only tried to make him feel better afterwards, and went heart-eyed. hell, it was difficult for him to even apologize. i love that type of unhealthy shit. so he's a little uh.. grosser here. thanks, hope ya'll enjoy.

At 10:13 AM, it all got to be too much. 

Pencils scribbling. Pens tapping. Shoes squeaking. Jaehoon hangs his head down, bangs hanging over his eyes. He steals a glance at his notebook page, made ugly with atrocious handwriting and smudged spots. Quickly looks somewhere else, anywhere else. It’s two weeks until exams. He really shouldn’t be fooling around so much. Eyes on your paper, eyes on your paper. Focus.

He grits his teeth and stares again. Tries to drill the equations in his head again. Tries. Tries. Tries. Sweat beads on his forehead and down his back. Something pounds in his head, ceaseless, demanding. A mere two weeks.

Somewhere in the background, there’s talking, tapping, footsteps. Excited, carefree, loud. All distractions, just distractions, _don’t let it distract you_.

“So you’re going to karaoke after school, right? Can I come?”

Squeezes his left hand. Light red, it surfaces and spreads like a disease. Doesn’t hurt like it should. More.

“Man, how’d you even fail that quiz? It was so easy!”

Digs his nails into it. That’s better. Nice and deep, stings just the way he wants it to, and he only wants more. The lack of blood leaves something to be desired, however. Do it harder. 

“My boyfriend’s coming over after school today, wonder what I should wear?~”

This isn't enough. Even harder. He needs it to hurt.

Scribbling. Tapping. Squeaking. Talking. Scribbling. Tapping. Squeaking. Talking. Tapping. Scratching. Talking. Talking. Talking. Too much distractions, get it out of your head out out of your head _suck it up and get to work think about what your parents will say if you-_

A push from behind, and he feels himself lurch forward much too fast. The world jolts. A voice comes up from behind. “Oh, uh, sorry…” And he hears footsteps getting smaller and smaller, until he doesn’t hear them anymore. Inhales, exhales.

He wasn’t getting anywhere like this. Some fresh air ought to help produce productivity. 

At 10:13 AM, he stands. His legs take him to the school roof. Feels the cold air breeze through his hair, pricks all over his neck. Goosebumps push up on his skin. Stares down at the grey and green abyss below the railing. Grey, rectangular tiles form a walkway to the school entrance, trees lined at each side. Pretty. _Welcoming._

He’ll be fine. He doesn’t know why he has these thoughts. They’re not serious, and it’s easy enough to repress them. He doesn’t want to die, he’s sure of it. He’s not _crazy_ , after all. But these thoughts, these temptations, these nuisances, they come up at the least expected of times. 

He’s resisted the temptation before, he can do it again, and he will. It’s almost become routine at this point. Ridiculous, really. 

Fresh air, he tells himself. You’re here for fresh air, nothing else. Clear your mind, and then you can get back.

Exhales, puffs of cold air comes out. Release those tensions, and then go back to studying to get them back again. It's an inevitable cycle. Endure it.

Right now, there’s no noise. Nobody to distract him, it’d be an ideal place to study, if not for the cold. Shame. 

Behind him, a voice cries out.

“Ugh..! Wait, please!” 

Jaehoon turns, and is greeted with the sight of a small circle of boys. They’re laughing, spewing mocking words, cigarettes in their mouths, bodies large and bulky with muscle. He knows what this is, has seen this scene played out before him all too many times with countless other kids. He’s seen it enough to know it isn’t any of his business.

“No! Stop!”

There’s a boy in the center. Unlike them, his frame is small, hair messy and greasy-looking. His skin is pale and covered in bandages. 

In other words, an easy-looking target.

The boys take turns to take swings at him, but Jaehoon can tell he’s been defeated long ago. It’s a contemptible sight. Sure, his tormentors were despicable, but perhaps that boy was the most despicable of all. Jaehoon sighs. Curled up on the ground, head in his hands, he looks- no, _is_ absolutely pathetic. It’s his own fault he’s getting beaten. He could stop it all if he just fought back. It isn’t that hard. Say a couple words back, that was all he had to do. And if he put up enough of a struggle, if he didn’t give them such a miserable reaction, it would be over. If it were Jaehoon in his place, he’d absolutely…

But then one of the antagonizers pulls the boy’s head up by his hair, giving Jaehoon a good look at his face, and-

Ah..?

His eyes are round and doe-like, dark and shining like star diopside, brimming with tears, looking up at his attackers with such misery, such desperation in them. His face is flushed, teeth clenched. He’s trembling. He’s the prettiest thing Jaehoon has ever seen. 

Heat swells in his face, absolutely alien. His heart pounds. He’s never seen anything like it. 

The delinquents hurt him some more, and Jaehoon knows he really should leave, but he can’t take his eyes off the boy. There was something rooting him to his spot, immobilizing him, electrifying him, rendering him unable to do anything but stare at the boy, whimpering and crying and begging them to please, please stop. At that, they hold back his arms and deliver swift kicks to his stomach mercilessly. The heat, unfamiliar and uncomfortable, spreads through his body, exploring down, down, down to his stomach, swirling, _hungry_ , and down to his-

Oh, shit.

He falls back onto his ass and scrambles to get up. Unfortunately, the loud thud attracts the attention of the group, and by extension, the boy. He lets out a gasp, looking mortified to be seen, bruised face turning even paler, which sends another swell of heat down his body. 

“Oh, good, it’s just you. Wanna join-”

Jaehoon flees.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated and follow me on twitter @pkbrainshock_


End file.
